Page 185 of Headstrong Like Us

I love her, and I can’t imagine doing this without her here.

Jane hides back behind the ivy trellises, turning to me. “They’re all seated.” Her eyes sparkle. She’s dressed in a white jumpsuit, her normally frizzed hair perfectly coiled into soft ringlets.

They’re all seated.

This is it.

I imagine about two-hundred guests filling the chairs and waiting. Production crew has been darting around with cameras all day.

I make sure I’m in one piece.Yeah.Haven’t obliterated yet.I’m just dressed in black slacks and a white button-down, the sleeves rolled. Casual and simple.

“We have a couple more minutes before the procession starts,” Jane tells me. “Do you need anything until then?” She smiles so brightly. Her excitement has been a current throughout the day, passing from her to me.

“No,” I say, and deeply, I tell her, “Thank you.” She put this together. Did pretty much all the work.

She fights tears. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re my best friend. It’s my honor.” She wafts her face. “Oh God.”

I run my thumb under her eye as a tear drips.

“Merci.”

I’m holding back surging emotion.

Do not turn into a maple tree.

“Ohno.Jane,” Kinney hisses.

Our heads veer towards the front of the line. To Kinney.

“The strap of my dress just broke,” my little sister says. “It’s white. It’srevoltingagainst me.”

Sulli helps hold the dress in place. “No way. You look fucking gorgeous, Kinney.”

Xander mutters, “It’s the Hale Curse.”

My dad noticeably stiffens beside me. I think this might actually be the first time he’s heard about the curse. Great.

Jane flashes me a look. “Don’tstress, old chap. Everything is under control.” She’s already flagging down an assistant from the wings, and she leaves the line, just as I hear, “We need the sewing kit.”

My brain buzzes a million miles a minute.I’m about to marry my childhood crush.Yeah, my brain is trying to ride that thought to the clouds.

I’m here.

Present moment, me.

Marriage material, me.

About to see Farrow Redford Keene, me.

My pulse thumps faster, stronger, and no matter how many breaths I blow out, I feel…nervous.

My dad squeezes my shoulder. I glance over at him, and his amber eyes carry this peaceful reassurance.

“You only have one job, bud.” A trademarked dry smile inches across his lips. “Make it to the altar. And lucky for you, if you pass out, I can just carry you there.”

I don’t know—I’m smiling. “You’re joking, but it might actually happen, Dad.”

A rare warm look crosses his face. “I felt that way, too. It’ll pass once you see him.”